


cause in my head i do everything right

by jareddunn (nondisclosure)



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Dry Humping, Hand Jobs, M/M, i am a gay richard/bi jared truther so, i guess?, it is not relevant to this but, lol, overuse of the word gentle, richard hendricks is dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26158801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nondisclosure/pseuds/jareddunn
Summary: "He knows that Jared doesn’t need his help — he’s gotten through much worse without Richard Hendricks trying to fumble his way through being a white knight —but, after everything so good he’s done, Jared deserves someone looking out of him, and, fuck it, Richard’s going to try his hardest to make that him. "or,When a pipe bursts flooding Jared's condo, Richard sort of loses it trying to show Jared he cares.
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	cause in my head i do everything right

**Author's Note:**

> im shit at summaries sorry but if you chose to read this just a couple things
> 
> 1) i do not own any of the characters from silicon valley or the show in anyway 
> 
> 2) this takes place like inbetween season 5 and 6 
> 
> 3) this is my first time writing for jared and richard so i dont feel like i have a complete mastery of their voices yet so im sorry if it feels a little ooc at points i tried my best!!! 
> 
> 4) also this is completely unbeta'd and almost entirely unreread because i hate reading my own work sorry

Jared is wearing a hoodie.

Jared is wearing a hoodie and an old, neon green Pied Piper t-shirt. 

Jared is wearing a hoodie and an old, neon green Pied Piper t-shirt and _jeans._

Jared is wearing a hoodie and an old, neon green Pied Piper t-shirt and jeans at work. 

Richard walks into Jared’s office and sees Jared is wearing a hoodie and an old, neon green Pied Piper t-shirt and jeans at work and Richard thinks he’s imagining things. He stands in the doorway of Jared’s office, open mouthed and wide-eyed, looking at Jared in disbelief. 

“Richard-” Jared starts, but Richard isn’t listening. Instead he turns around and leaves Jared’s office. He goes straight into the bathroom, splashes (probably too much given that it gets all over the front of his shirt) cold water on his face to convince himself that, yes, he is in fact awake, and walks back into Jared’s office to see that Jared is still in a hoodie and an old, neon green Pied Piper shirt and jeans — he wasn’t imagining things. 

“You’re — um — you’re wearing a hoodie?” Jared Dunn, the man who has said that to show up in anything short of combed hair, pressed khakis, and a lint-free fleece vest is disrespectful, is wearing a hoodie (It looks unbelievably good on him too, but Richard ignores the part of his brain currently doing nothing but making honking noises for more important things).

“Richard, yes, I sent you a memo when I got in this morning? I deeply apologize for my unprofessional attire, but there was a flood in my condo last night from a pipe burst, and I didn’t have time to go and buy new clothes while mine are at the dry cleaners. This is all I currently have clean. I’m all out of sorts, I didn’t even have time to give myself my daily mirror pep talk this morning, and I really needed one. I’m sorry again, Richard, I know that my appearance reflects negatively on Pied Piper.” 

Fully looking at Jared now, Richard can see that his face is unshaved, stubble dark on his pale face, his hair is not in it’s perfectly gelled coif, and he has deep purple bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept at all. But Richard can’t really focus on that; he’s still dumbstruck at Jared’s fucking hoodie. It’s nothing special — a plain, black, zip-up hoodie with what Richard sees now is a small Pied Piper logo on it. “I didn’t even know you owned a hoodie.” 

Jared looks down at the hoodie, smiling a little. “Oh, yes, I hope you don’t mind; I kept a lot of the old Pied Piper merchandise. You know, as a memento for myself — or if you ever wanted something, or if a museum ever did an exhibit on you. These hoodies are quite comfortable. When I was living in Karl’s guest house it often got very cold in the nighttime and these were nice to wear to bed to keep me warm.” 

Richard opens his mouth, closing it immediately after. He is taking in too much information at once and not processing any of it at all. He can’t stop staring at Jared. It’s like he's some alien creature sent to make Richard’s head spin. 

“Oh, Richard, I can see my appearance is making you very uncomfortable. I want to offer my sincerest apologies once again. I know that my unprofessional appearance reflects badly on the image that Pied Piper-”

“No, no, Jared I don’t — I don’t give a fuck what you wear to work. I — um, it’s fine. I wear a hoodie to work everyday. Do you think my appearance reflects badly on the image of Pied Piper? Actually don’t answer that. Maybe I should wear a suit more often — or at least a tie? Tuck in my shirt once in a while…” 

“No, Richard. You have bigger things to worry about than what you wear to work; your tech and your brain speak for themselves. Besides I like what I wear — it’s what I wore at Vassar, at Google, and at Hooli, and what I wear here. Excluding today of course.” 

Jared huffs out a stilted laugh. Richard knows Jared prides himself on his professionalism (it’s about the only thing that Richard is 100% sure of when it comes to Jared); the most dressed down Richard has ever seen him, excluding like fucking pajamas, was a neatly ironed polo tucked into equally neatly ironed khakis. And, yet, here he was — stripped of the thing he prided himself most on, all of his personal objects potentially ruined, his home in disarray, and running on no sleep — still worried he’s made _Richard_ uncomfortable. 

“Jared, why don’t you go home? Get some rest?” Richard asks. 

“That’s very kind, but we have too much to do,” Jared says, smiling weakly. Richard often thinks about how much he appreciates Jared; he knows he doesn’t tell him nearly enough — there's something about the earnestness adorn on Jared’s face when he compliments him that makes Richard shy away from saying anything at all — but he hopes Jared knows that this place would completely fall apart without him. He doesn’t know what people do without a Jared Dunn in their life. 

He’s well aware of how much Jared gave up to be here — how much blind faith he has put it Richard since day one. It used to overwhelm him a little, how much Jared believed in him — and sometimes it still does take him off guard, makes him feel an indescribable guilt when he fails — but mostly it feels _good_ to have someone care about him the way Jared does. Right now, though, he feels kind of horrible. 

“Jared, we can get by without you,” Richard says, “for one day,” he adds when Jared looks up at him with wild panic in his eyes. 

“I can’t go home even if I wanted to — not that I want to! They’re working on my condo to try and fix the water damage, so I have nowhere to go until I find an AirBnB,” Jared sighs, fixing the bangs that have swooped down into his eyes. “I promise you, Richard, I am still very capable of performing the set duties on my title.”

“Oh, no, Jared, I know that — that’s not what — I know you’re always capable...I just meant that I’m, you know, worried about you or whatever.” Richard rushes out the last few words like they had to escape from his mouth to get them to come out at all. Jared’s bottom lip quivers slightly, and Richard panics suddenly knowing that’s how Jared looks right before he starts crying. “Please, don’t cry. I —um, you don’t need to cry.” 

Jared sucks in a deep breath, wiping his eyes quickly. “That is...wonderful to know, Richard, but you do not need to worry, frailty thy name is not Donald!” 

Richard just nods, taking a final look at Jared before leaving Jared’s office. He gets halfway down the hallway when what something Jared says finally registers in his brain.

“A museum?” Richard asks, popping his head back into Jared’s office. 

“Oh, yes, I’ve already begun exhibition plans.” 

////

Jared comes by his office later looking even worse for wear than when Richard left him. He’s seen Jared on no sleep — manic, unhinged, and running on fumes — but this feels different. Jared looks almost despondent, handing Richard the papers he needs to sign without his usual zest for paperwork. He hadn’t noticed it earlier — too distracted by Jared’s attire to notice the look in Jared’s doe eyes, usually so open and bright and so, so blue, now completely devoid of their usual life. 

He looks up at Jared — shifting from side to side, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie — he reminds Richard, well of _him_ He’s never really seen Jared look so undeniably uncomfortable as he does in that moment standing in front of Richard. He wonders if it’s something he’s said — he tries to not actively be an asshole, but he’s prone to the occasional slip up. He thinks back to their conversation that morning and mentally kicks himself. If he hadn’t been so distracted by Jared’s attire he would’ve realized the fact that Jared called himself _Donald_.

Jared’s told him that, despite the name being given to him by Gavin Belson, he liked being called Jared. (He’s never told Jared this, but Richard thought it had something to do with his old name being a link to his past — that his new name gave him a sense of autonomy, a new name for a new life that he’s chosen for himself.) But there are times that Jared will slip and call himself Donald, when he’s so overcome with some emotion that his mind is too preoccupied with something else to stop himself from letting that name escape. 

And then Richard figures it out. While jeans and a hoodie are his comfort clothes, it’s the exact opposite for Jared. It’s more than a point of pride for him — it makes him feel safe. It makes him feel safe, comfortable, and right now he doesn’t have that wall up to hide himself behind. 

Richard sighs, unsure what to do. He’s never been the best at dealing with other people’s emotions (or dealing with his for that matter), but, fuck, Jared does _so much_ for him. Debatably too much for him. He’s pretty sure if Jared could find a way to breath for him, he would do it so Richard would have less to worry about. 

The thing is he doesn’t like to think too much about what Jared would or wouldn’t do for him. Not only because it kind of makes him feel like a shit person, but because if he thinks too much about how much he needs Jared to like fucking _survive_ it starts to border on uncomfortable feelings territory like fondness and, god forbid, love. So he tries very hard to decidedly not (!!!) think about it. He does not (!!!) think about Jared’s soft blue eyes, or his long skillful fingers, or his gentle patient smile. He does not (!!!) think about how Jared cares enough to catalogue everything that reacts badly with his stomach, or how only Jared can make him the perfect cup of tea (he didn’t even like tea before he met Jared), or how Jared just always seemed to have an unwavering belief in him even when he definitely shouldn't. If he doesn’t think about it, it doesn’t exist. (He thinks about it a lot).

But now, Jared is standing awkwardly in front of him in a hoodie with dark circles, and Richard hates it (not the hoodie, his brain is still like tv static when he looks at Jared’s shoulders in the hoodie). He hates seeing Jared hurting. Richard knows Jared has been through some deeply disturbing things in his life; things that might have killed a lesser man, and Richard has always admired Jared’s ability to persevere in the face of adversity. He’s always seen the silver lining, or at least the off white lining. So to see Jared so dejected looks unnatural, and it makes Richard’s heart ache. 

He knows that Jared doesn’t need his help — he’s gotten through much worse without Richard Hendricks trying to fumble his way through being a white knight —but, after everything so good he’s done, Jared deserves someone looking out of him, and, fuck it, Richard’s going to try his hardest to make that him. 

Richard signs the paperwork, but keeps a grip on them when he goes to hand them back to Jared. Jared looks at him, confusion clear on his pale face. 

“Jared, how about you work in here with me today?” Richard asks, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

Jared’s brow furrows, “Is there something wrong, Richard?” and of course Jared would be concerned for Richard while Richard is trying to take care of him. 

“No, no, nothing at all. Just, uh, you know we have things to work on together? You know, like paperwork, and client planning and, uh, other things.” He didn’t think this through (when does he ever), and he feels like Jared knows he’s shooting the shit based on the look he’s giving Richard now

“Richard, is this because you’re embarrassed by my appearance today?” Jared asks in a quiet voice, like he’s scared to hear the answer. 

“No!” Classic Hendricks, comforting people by making them feel worse, nice job. “I’ve told you that like as long as you don’t fucking come in naked I don’t care what you wear.” Do NOT think about Jared naked, Hendrinks, get it together. “It just doesn’t feel necessary to have you walk across the entire building every time I need you for something today so just stay in here. With me. In my office, I mean.” 

Jared isn’t convinced and Richard knows he isn’t, but he also knows that if this is something Richard wants that Jared can do for him, he’ll do it without question. He feels a little guilty taking advantage of Jared’s devotion, but he feels in this particular situation the end justifies the means. 

“Okay,” Jared says slowly. “If you’re sure. I just need to grab my laptop, and some other odds and ends from my office.” 

Richard nods, smiling at Jared in a way that probably reads a little too manic. He doesn’t know how to do this — this taking care of people shit, this being a comfort to people — he’s a emotionally stunted little asshole on his best days, but he cares about Jared enough to keep trying. 

Richard makes sure that Jared is out of earshot before calling Holden into his office. He gives him his credit card, telling him to get Jared the necessities — a new toothbrush, a razor, hair gel, underwear, anything he thinks Jared will need to sleep — as well as stopping by the dry cleaners to pick up Jared’s clothes, and if they’re not ready, going to get Jared something to wear the following day (he has to guess on the measurements, but he thinks he did an okay job, he even tells Holden to get Jared a new Patagonia vest). 

He sends Holden off before Jared gets back to his office, setting up shop on the little table and couch Richard has across the room from his desk. Richard gets distracted watching him settle into work. He’s always admired the way that Jared gives 100% of his heart, mind, and attention to anything he thinks needs it — he sometimes worries that Jared gives too much of himself over, that one day Richard will take too much and it will be the final crack in Jared’s foundation. He never wants to see that happen. 

Jared catches him staring and frowns, “Is it distracting having me in here?” 

“No! No, you’re fine, it’s — I asked you to be in here. I was just thinking. I was thinking that maybe you could stay with me? You know, while your condo is being worked on?” Richard internally groans at how unsure he sounds. He doesn’t want Jared to think he’s doing this out of pity or some kind of obligation. He wants Jared to know he cares about him. 

“Oh, Richard, I could never inconvenience you like that. I will be fine with an AirBnB for a few days, I’ve slept in much more treacherous environments.”

“Jared, it’s not an inconvenience. I — I want you there. You’ve put me up in your condo plenty of times, how is this any different?” 

“It’s very different, Richard. To house your innovative greatness within my walls is an utmost honor, but I would be nothing but a burden to your home.” 

“You’re not a burden, Jared. C’mon, it’ll be fun. A couple of boys hanging out. We can get takeout from that vegan place you like, and I think I still have some tangerine La Croix? We can even watch a Julia Roberts movie; I never saw _Erin Brockovitch.”_

“Oh, don’t use my affinity for Ms. Roberts’ oeuvre against me, Richard,” Jared says, but he’s smiling a little bit. 

“Maybe even _Notting Hill?”_ What’d ya say, Buddy? A regular guys night.” 

“Oh, you know how defenseless I am against those baby blues,” Jared sighs. “But the second you feel as though I begin to become burdensome you send me on my way, okay? And you let me cook breakfast. ” 

“I can live with that. The breakfast part — not the other thing.” 

“I suppose I will be able to stop and get a few necessities on the way home, if that’s alright with you?” 

“Oh, um, I actually already asked Holden to pick up some stuff for you. You know, like a toothbrush, a razor, some clothes if the dry cleaner isn’t done with yours. I, well, I had to guess on your measurements, but I think I did okay? If they’re not we can just go in the morning and get you something; they won’t miss us for an hour,” Richard rambles, cutting himself off when he hears Jared take a sharp intake of breath. Jared’s got his fist held up to his mouth, and, while he can’t be 100% sure from across the room, Richard is pretty sure his eyes are welling up. 

“Oh, Richard,” Jared whispers, sucking in another breath. “I can’t possibly accept something so generous. You’ve already offered up your home — I couldn’t take anymore from you.” 

Richard probably should have seen this coming. Jared is always weird about things like this. He doesn’t ask for help even if he so desperately needs it, and when it’s offered he vehemently refuses in a way that seems humble on the surface, but is what Richard knows is defensive. “Jared, I want you to have this.” 

“Richard, the size of your brain is only matched by the size of your heart. I don’t know how I will ever be able to repay your kindness,” Jared says, voice wavering. 

“You don’t have to fucking repay me, man. We’re friends — you’re my friend, this is shit friends do or whatever. You don’t — this isn’t a big deal, and even if it was you’ve done more for me and Pied Piper than I can like even ever fucking repay so like don’t worry about it. Just, um, like get back to work.” 

Jared nods and gives him a salute, turning back to his laptop with a new vigor. Occasionally he’ll catch Jared smiling at him from above the top of his computer, the sides of his mouth pulling down in the way that tells Richard that he’s truly happy. It makes the tips of his ears heat up every time. 

Holden sends him a message on Slack when he gets back — Jared’s dry cleaning won’t be done for a few days so he picked up a couple of days worth of clothes — and Richard tells him to just keep the bags by his desk until Richard packs it in for the night lest risking another bout of Jared tears. 

At around five he orders Jared’s favorite foods from the vegan place he knows Jared likes so that it’s ready for them to pick up on the way home, and he asks Holden to grab a box of the camomile tea Jared likes and put it with the rest of things he bought before he’s good to go home. He sends out a few final emails before turning off his desktop and shoving his laptop into his bag. 

“Jared?” Jared’s head shoots up at Richard’s voice, giant eyes wide with attention. “You ready to head home?” 

Jared nods, smiling at Richard again. “Ready to set sail my captain.”

“Um, right, okay.” 

Jared follows Richard out of his office, making a pitstop at Holden’s desk to grab his credit card and the bags huddled up on the floor by his chair. He blanches a bit at the receipt Holden left wrapped around his card — he’s spent more on Jared in one day than he has on his own wardrobe in one year. It’s fine, he reminds himself, he can afford it now, and the look of Jared’s face when he pulls out the navy Patagonia vest makes it worth ten times what he paid. 

////

It’s weird having Jared in his apartment. Jared’s been there before — he’s the one who found the place for Richard in the first place, and the one who went with him to check it out, and the one that threw him a housewarming party that he hadn’t really wanted — but right now he’s standing stiffly in the middle of the living area like he’s trying to make himself blend into the furniture he had helped pick out. 

“You can, um, you know, make yourself comfortable. Me casa es su casa,” Richard jokes, laughing awkwardly. “Why don’t you pick out a movie or something, or do you want to unpack some stuff while I do this?” He asks, pointing to where he is plating his and Jared’s dinner. Jared had begged him to let him do it, but Richard had vehemently refused stating that Jared was his guest (plus he didn’t want Jared to see that he’s pretty sure he only has two clean plates). 

He wishes he had time to clean up before bringing Jared here. It wasn’t really like he himself was here that often with how many nights he ends up sleeping in his office, but there were still dirty dishes in the sink, his sneakers strewed out next to the door, Red Bull cans scattered around the apartment, and he’s sure there’s a pile of laundry waiting to be done in his bedroom. He knows that Jared doesn’t really care — next to the hacker hostel this place looked like it had housed Mr. Clean — but he still feels embarrassed, he’d wanted to make a good impression. 

Richard sets the plates on the coffeetable in front of the TV and plays Tetris on his phone until Jared reappears from the hallway leading to his bedroom and bathroom. 

“I hung the new shirts in your bedroom, I hope that’s alright with you. I just didn’t want them to get wrinkled, but I can—” 

“That’s fine! They’re fine there,” Richard says, though he cringes at knowing Jared has seen the dirty pile of clothes which now that he thinks about it definitely has a pair of old underwear that he should probably throw away on top. 

“Do you still have that iron I bought you? They might still need it in the morning.”

“I think it’s in with the washing machine.” In fact, Richard knows it is because it’s still in the box, never been opened. “Sit down, Jared. Foods getting cold.” 

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait for me,” Jared says, but sits down opposite Richard on the couch anyway, grabbing the plate from the table. 

Richard grabs the remote and his own plate from the table, turning on _Notting Hill_ (he had found out all the Julia Roberts movies that were available for streaming when he was supposed to be working earlier that day just to have for his own knowledge). 

They watch the movie in relative silence while they eat their food — Richard has the occasional comment and sometimes he can hear Jared whispering some of the dialogue — but it’s nice. It’s really fucking nice. Richard’s never been a big relationship person, and while most of that was not by choice, a part of him never really got the appeal of just sitting with someone and watching a movie. But sitting here now watching a rom com with Jared is the most relaxed he’s been in months, maybe even years. He likes listening to Jared laugh, likes watching him smile at the romantic parts, likes just having Jared sitting next to him doing something so fucking normal for once that it almost overwhelms him. 

Jared catches him looking at him mouth the words along with Hugh Grant at the press conference, and he flushes, a pretty red rising to the apples of his cheeks, “Sorry. I just get so caught up in the romance of it all I can hardly contain myself.” 

“No, it’s — you’re — it’s fine. It’s nice,” Richard mumbles, looking away from Jared. Maybe this was a bad idea. His raging crush was hard enough to deal with on a regular basis, but now Jared is sitting on his couch still in those jeans that are a little too form fitting, and that stupid hoodie that looks really really soft, and his cheeks that are still a little pink from embarrassment, and fuck Jared is like _in_ his apartment. He’s going to sleep on Richard’s pull out couch (he refused to sleep in Richard’s bed, which was probably for the best, he had no idea when he last washed his sheets), and use Richard’s shower, and, oh fuck, he’s going to smell like Richard’s body wash and his shampoo all day tomorrow. He’s going to throw up. 

“Richard, are you feeling alright? Your mannerisms suggest that you’re in the stage right before you vomit,” Jared says, touching Richard lightly on the arm. And that does it — he’s unraveled by a single touch to his arm, how completely pathetic — running to the bathroom before puking his entire dinner back up. 

Jared’s right there behind him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead and rubbing his back and, fuck, he’s so past gone that it makes him puke up his lunch, too.

He leans his head against the cool porcelain of his bathtub for a moment while Jared goes to get him a cool glass of water. He hands the glass to Richard while he runs cold water over a washcloth, wiping Richard’s sweaty forehead with it when he’s done. “Is it stress or do you think it was something you ate? I was certain there was no cilantro in our food, but maybe my palette is not as refined as I believe it is.” 

Richard just shrugs, “Maybe. I think that I’m going to head to bed, though.” 

“Oh. Of course. It is getting rather late.” It was only like 10pm, but Richard wasn’t going to point that out. Jared got up from the floor first, holding a hand out to help Richard up. 

“Just give me a second to brush my teeth and stuff and then the bathroom is all yours,” Richard says, shutting the door on Jared. He took a deep breath, splashing cold water on his face. It’s fine, it’ll be fine. So what if Jared is in his apartment? They’ve cohabitated before no problem. This is not a big deal.

“Okay. Okay. Get it together, Hendricks,” Richard whispers to himself, sticking his toothbrush in his mouth. 

When he’s done Jared has already set up the pull out bed and put sheets on it, “All good?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richard replies, helping him cover the pillows with shams. “Jared, would you please just take my bed? You’re the guest. You’re going to have like fold yourself in fucking half to fit on there.” 

“Well when your bed for a period is a dog cushion on a semi-enclosed patio, anything else is like a night at the Taj Mahal.” 

“Um, right,” Richard says, never sure what to say when Jared gives him some Dickensian tidbit from his past. He finishes up the pillows, putting them to the side while Jared finishes putting the blankets down. 

“Thank you for your help, Richard. For everything really.” Jared smiles at him in a way that makes his stomach lurch again. Richard has to look away, clearing his throat. 

“I should get to bed,” Richard says finally. 

“Of course. Goodnight, Richard. Sweet dreams. I love you,” Jared says. When Richard looks at him again, he’s still smiling but it’s softer now, eyes wide and vulnerable. He hates hearing Jared say those words to him, knowing they don’t hold the same meaning as Richard wishes they did. 

He doesn’t say anything back, just gives Jared an awkward smile and an even awkwarder bow, shaking his head at how fucking dumb he looks after. Jared just laughs a little, bowing back. 

Richard strips out of his jeans and hoodie when he gets into his room, getting into bed in just his boxers and a t-shirt. He can hear Jared in the bathroom —the light switch flicking on, the toilet flushing, the sink running. It feels too domestic like when Jared’s done brushing his teeth, he’ll crawl into bed right beside Richard, give him a kiss on the forehead, and wrap himself around Richard so they can go to sleep. It makes him ache with want. He wants to taste his toothpaste on Jared’s tongue. 

“Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck, god damn it,” Richard groans, getting up to pace. He grabs his phone from his nightstand and calls the only person he thinks won’t make fun of him. 

The line rings twice before Bighead picks up, “Hey, man!” 

“Bighead.” 

“Yeah, man, it’s Bighead. Did you call the wrong number? I do that all the time. You know last week I talked to your mom for an hour because I meant to call you to see if you wanted to play Fortnight. You should really call her more by the way, she worries about you.” 

“No, Bighead, I know it’s you, I just need you to focus,” Richard sighs. “Jared is in my apartment.” 

“Oh, cool.”

“No, not cool. I’m freaking out.” 

“Wait why?”

And, okay, maybe he should’ve thought this through a little more because, well, he’s never really come out to Bighead. He’s never really come out to _anyone_. He hadn’t even admitted it to himself until Jared walked into his life with his too long legs. “Um.”

“Are you alright, dude?” Bighead asks after Richard doesn’t say anything else. 

“I, um, yeah. I just — I like Jared?” 

“I like Jared, too. I mean he’s a little weird, but he’s funny sometimes. But I thought he was freaking you out?” 

“No, Bighead, I’m freaking out _because_ I like Jared, and he’s in my apartment, and he was wearing a hoodie today, and it looked really soft and really good on him, and he probably tastes like my toothpaste, and he’s got big hands and a pretty eyes, and he’s so nice and comforting, and he has so much faith in me, and he makes my head spin, and makes me want to vomit a little and —” Richard cuts himself off, embarrassed at his rambling. “So, um.” 

“So you like Jared. That’s why you’re freaked?” Bighead asks when Richard is done. 

“You — that’s your only question?” 

“About this, yeah. Is there something else I should be asking?”

“Uh, no, no. I guess not,” Richard says, relief filling his chest. He doesn’t know why he was so worried. Bighead is his oldest friend and he’s seen Richard do some really fucking embarrassing shit that hasn’t made him blink an eye, he should’ve known he would take this in stride. 

“Tight. So I still don’t really get it? You like Jared and Jared likes you so why are you freaking out?” 

Richard sighs. “Jared doesn’t like me, you know, like _that_. Fuck that makes me sound like a middle schooler. He just, fuck, you know, he’s Jared. He’s like that with everyone. He just likes — I don’t know — taking care of people or whatever.” 

“Uh, I mean maybe? But, actually, I don’t think you’re right? Like I think I would swear on River Tam that Jared is in love with you.” 

The noise Richard lets out is, well, undignified is being kind to himself. What it also is is loud. Loud enough that seconds later he hears Jared knock on his door. 

“Richard! Are you alright?” Jared asks. His voice is muffled through the door, but Richard can still hear the panicked tone to it. 

“Yeah, I’m fine! I just feel out of bed,”Richard calls back. 

“Are you injured? Do you have a concussion? Do you need a cold compress?” 

Richard turns back to his phone, whispering, “Fuck, Bighead, I gotta go.”

“Tell Jared I say hi.” Richard groans, hanging up the phone. 

He goes to his bedroom door, opening it to find Jared looking just as panicked as he had sounded. He’s got on pajama pants that look a couple inches too short and a plain white t-shirt that hits just over the waistband. Richard bets if he asked Jared to reach something on a top shelf he could sneak a peak of stomach. He looks away. 

“Jared, really, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Are you sure you don’t have a concussion. You shouldn’t fall asleep if there’s any chance,” Jared says, looking over Richard’s face and down his arms looking for any injuries. 

“I didn't even hit my head. Please go back to bed,” Richard pleads, pushing Jared a little bit out of the doorway. 

“Goodnight, Richard.” 

“Goodnight, Jared.” 

When he shuts the door again, he resumed pacing. Walking up and down the length of his bedroom thinking about what Bighead said. You don’t just swear on River Tam unless it’s something that you are 100% sure about. _Firefly_ might as well have been gospel to them in high school, it was not something they took lightly. But just because Bighead was sure doesn’t mean he’s right. Bighead was wrong about stuff all the time. What did he know? Richard wasn’t even sure Bighead knew why they called him Bighead, but he was supposed to believe Bighead knew that Jared was _in love_ with him? No. No fucking way. 

////

He should’ve just let it go. He knew that Bighead was wrong, so he should’ve just pushed it from his mind and fucking moved on. He should’ve gone to sleep and gotten up in the morning to have breakfast with Jared and gone to work like nothing had changed. 

He should’ve done that. 

What he did instead was pace in his room thinking about Jared and Jared loving him and Jared not loving him until he fell asleep out of pure mental and physical exhaustion, only to be woken up by Jared making gluten free waffles for him while he hummed a song that Richard recognizes from _The King and I_ vinyl his mother used to play and he decidedly does not want to think about his mother in conjecture with Jared lest he become some fucking Freudian therapists dream case. 

What he did instead is vomit up the waffles Jared makes him because he thinks too hard about how nice it would be to wake up every morning to a humming, happy Jared making them breakfast that they eat before sharing a shower and getting ready for work together. 

What he did instead was pace in his office, biting at his fingertips until he couldn’t fucking take it anymore and slacked Monica, Dinesh, and Gilfoyle to come to his office to ask whether or not they thought Jared was in love with him, taunting he damned. 

“So? Do you?” Richard demands after a solid minute of silence. 

“Richard, not to be rude here, but are you an idiot?” Monica asks, looking at him like he is, in fact, an idiot. 

“Dick, I do completely mean to be rude here — you are a fucking idiot,” Gilfoyle says. 

“I mean the man paints your nails.”

“I walked in on them doing that once. I almost wish I had walked in on them fucking instead. It was so fucking intimate I wanted to be sick,” Dinesh interjects, shuttering. “Candles and shit everywhere and fucking Fleetwood Mac playing.”

“It’s Joni Mitchell, actually. Jared likes it,” Richard corrects, getting an angry glare from Dinesh in the process. He doesn’t mention that he also likes it sometimes. That sometimes when he’s by himself he’ll put on All I Want and think about Jared; they definitely can never fucking know that, they will never let him live it down. 

“Took him for more of Sarah McLachlan girl,” Gilfoyle muses. 

“Regardless of what Jared listens to when he’s fucking _painting your nails,”_ Monica interrupts. “How can you not see that that man is in love with you. I’ve known that since TechCrunch when he went off on me about how the two of you were partners and how only he knew your dietary restrictions.” 

“Well Jared was fucked up at TechCrunch, you can’t take anything he said there seriously,” Richard tries to argue. 

“Does he not know your dietary restrictions?” Monica asks. 

“That’s not him being in love with me, though! That’s just like fucking Jared, you know? That’s just how he acts. He knows Gilfyole and Dinesh’s dietary restrictions, too!”

“Like fuck he does.”

“I was sure he was in love with you after that whole ‘puttin on hats’ thing he did — he compared you to fucking Richard Gere, dude,” Dinesh says. 

“I’ve known since he came to the hostel that first night and said he ‘respects’ you. No one respects you, Richard,” Gilfoyle adds. 

Richard rolls his eyes, “Thanks so much. As usual, none of you have been any fucking help to me.” 

“You asked us our opinion. We gave you said opinion. I don’t see what else you want from us.” 

“Why are you asking, Richard?” Monica asks before he could answer Gilfoyle. 

“Finally going to go full gay and make an honest woman out of Betty Spaghetti?” Richard gulps, the familiar feeling of bile creeping up his throat. He hadn’t thought this through. He’s gone from nobody knowing he’s gay to everyone in his life knowing that he’s got hard on for his COO. He drops down to the floor, shoving his head in his trash can. “That’s a yes.” 

“You would think after five years I would get used to this, but it’s still always so fucking disgusting,” Dinesh says when Richard finishes expelling the entirety of his lunch. 0 for 2 on the daily vomit battle and it’s only 3pm. 

“Richard, if you have feelings for Jared you should just tell him. I think he would rather eat a fucking bullet than reject you.” 

“But Jared wou—“ Richard cuts himself off when he sees Jared walk into his office holding a stack of paperwork, a small smile on his face. He looks better than yesterday — face shaved, hair parted, and clothes back to his standard, safe business attire (the pants were a little short, but Richard kind of liked the little flash of clothed ankle he could see like Jared was some fucking Victorian harlot) — he even looked well-rested which Richard had noticed that morning, but was still embarrassingly personally proud of. He kind of misses the hoodie and stubble, though.

“Oh, good. Another person to add to this entirely fucking pointless meeting,” Gilfoyle says when Jared came fully into the room. 

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t know there was a meeting transpiring. _Holden_ let me walk right in,” Jared says, giving Holden a death glare through the window facing Holden’s desk.

“Jared, it’s alright,” Richard says, bringing Jared’s attention back to him and off of his could possibly be murdered tonight assistant. “The meeting’s ov—“

Gilfoyle walks out before Richard can even finish the word. 

////

Jared slips back into his office a little past 5, laptop bag in hand. 

“Hey,” Richard says, taking off his headphones. “I’m almost done here, and then we can head out.” 

“Actually,” Jared starts, and Richard can feel his stomach flip. His condo couldn’t be repaired already could it? It had only been one night. Did he find an AirBnB to stay at? But why? Didn’t he have a nice time with Richard the night before? Richard had done everything right, tried so fucking hard to make Jared feel better, hadn’t it been enough? “The dry cleaners called and said my things were ready, so I thought I could let you finish here while I went there and then to the grocery store so I could cook you dinner? As a start of a thank you for your overly gracious hospitality.” 

Richard let out the breath he hadn’t known he had sucked in, his shoulders immediately sagging with relief. “Oh. Jared, you don’t have to do that. Really, you’ve already thanked me.” 

He doesn’t want Jared to think he owes Richard anything. Doesn’t want Jared to think this is pity, or that he feels some sort of obligation to Jared. He wants Jared to know that he cares. That, if anything, this is just scraping the surface of what Richard owes Jared after he’s cared for Richard to an extreme that he did definitely not deserve for years with barely a thank you in return.

“Well, I would still like to cook you dinner — if not as a thank you then as perhaps a gesture of friendship?” Jared’s voice is so soft when he says it, and Richard can see the tips of Jared’s ears turn pink like he’s still embarrassed to ask Richard if they are friends after over five years spent in each other’s pockets. He hates how Jared still doesn’t see how important he is to him. 

“Okay. If you really want to, but Jared I’m really fine with like takeout or something, you don’t have to go to a lot of trouble,” Richard says. 

Jared gets a strange look on his face, something Richard can’t quite figure out. “It’s not any trouble, it’s never any trouble, Richard. I like to do it.” 

“Then, cool, yeah alright. That sounds...nice, good, yeah.” He cringes at himself, real fucking smooth, Hendricks, but Jared just smiles at him, eyes wide and bright at Richard’s words. It shouldn’t catch Richard so off guard — he’s seen the same look on Jared’s face hundreds, if not thousands, of times — but this feels different. He can hear his friends’ words in his head telling him _that is the face of someone who's in love with you,_ and he starts to wonder if maybe, just possibly, there is the slightest chance that they’re right. 

It’s just he _knows_ that Jared cares about him — that’s not a secret — Jared probably cares about him more than anyone ever has excluding like his fucking mother (and even that may be up for debate). He’s followed Richard through the thickest trenches, through the most desperate times, all with a smile, a business plan, and a mug of tea at the ready for him. There were times when he forgave Richard so easily for things that would’ve effectively ruined any other relationship because he believed in Richard and he believed in Pied Piper. At least, that’s what Richard has always thought. He’s always just figured that’s just how Jared fucking acts. Jared with his almost pathological need to be helpful, to take care of people, to bring them food, and make sure they get enough sleep. Jared, who would go to the ends of the earth to make sure someone he cared about was happy, would probably kill a man if he so much as looked at Richard wrong. Was there really no ulterior motive to his undying devotion? 

“Richard?” Jared says, pulling him from his reverie. 

“Yeah, sorry, what?” 

“I asked if there was anything in particular that you would like to have?” 

“Uh, no, you know what I like.” ‘ _He knows your dietary restrictions’_ he hears Monica’s voice say in his head. 

“Oh, yes, I am well versed in all things Richard!” Jared proclaims, proud smile on his face. 

“Um, yeah, I...okay,” Richard stutters, feeling the flush spreading on his cheeks. He grabs his keys from his computer bag handing them over to Jared. “I’ll just, you know, meet you at home, then.” 

Jared leaves Richard alone again with a smile and a tiny salute. He waits until he’s sure that Jared can’t see him before he gets up and starts pacing. He wishes he hadn’t made Jared take the SWOT board he had stashed in here out. The way he sees it there are three possible general outcomes here: 

  1. He tells Jared that he’s a dumb fuck and in love with him and Jared says, “Oh, Richard, I’m so sorry” in that pitying tone he has when Richard’s done something truly fucking stupid, and he quits because it’s too pathetic to look at him and Richard is Jared-less and miserable forever
  2. He tells Jared that he’s a dumb fuck and in love with him and Jared says, “Oh, Richard, that is so kind, and I’m so honored that someone of your calaber would choose me to be in love with, but unfortunately I do not feel the same way” in that placating way like when you’re trying to tell a child not to do something without yelling at them, and he doesn’t quit, but he gives Richard sad little looks everyday until Richard finally snaps and fires him and then Jared sues him for firing him for sexual harassment, and then he’s poor and Jared-less and miserable forever. 
  3. He tells Jared that he’s a dumb fuck and in love with him and Jared says, “Oh, Richard, I feel the same way” and he smiles at Richard, but like his real, corners tilting down, manic eyes, smile and they’re in love and happy forever. 
  4. He says nothing and just keeps pinning and is miserable forever. 



So he’s got some options. 

He drops back into his chair, shoving his head into his hands. He wants a magic8 ball to just tell him what to do — or a flower to pick the petals off of saying “He loves me, he loves me not” until he runs out. He should get Jared some flowers. That’s a thing people do, right? One person makes dinner, and the other person brings them flowers. Jared would probably love getting flowers. He can get Jared flowers. 

He finds a local florist and leaves with a small bouquet of what he thinks are daisies mixed with other flowers after telling the florist he needed something that said “I like you, but we’re friends and coworkers, and I want you to stay my friend and coworker and I’m 80% sure you don’t feel the same way, but also I want to kiss you and I cried listening to a Taylor Swift song because it made me think of you? But I can’t tell you that because I was repressed and awkward for most, if not all, of my life so I’m not well adjusted and I don’t know how to tell you, but if you feel like that too and you told me it would be the best thing that ever happened to me? But if not, that’s cool, I get it, here are some friend flowers.” He really needs a therapist so he can stop traumatizing strangers. 

Jared is humming again when Richard gets home. He doesn’t notice Richard at first, the sounds of whatever he’s cooking on the stovetop drowning out Richard’s shuffling footsteps. He shuts the door quietly, setting his laptop bag down. He feels like an idiot just standing in front of the door with a handful of flowers, but he knows Jared will stop humming if he knows he’s being watched and Richard wants to listen for a little while longer. It’s the same song as he was humming during breakfast. Richard makes a mental note to download the _King and I_ cast recording to his phone and figure out what it is. 

Jared eventually sees him, eyes going wide in surprise, before his face melts into an easy smile, “Richard! I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.” _Not long enough,_ he thinks to himself. 

“Sorry you had to hear how rusty my vocal skills are, I haven’t had much time to practice in jest since college,” Jared apologizes, turning back to the stove. 

“It’s okay...I mean, it’s nice — you sound nice.” Richard clears his throat. “Uh, I got some flowers?” 

Jared turns back around, and Richard lifts the flowers to hide his face. He’s sure that the tips of his ears have turned red already. “Oh, Richard, they’re lovely. I was just thinking that your living room could use some fresh flowers.” 

“Wha—Oh. Oh, yeah. The living room.” Right the living room, Jared thought that Richard had just got flowers to spice up his shitty living room because why the fuck else would he get flowers. He could tell Jared that he had gotten them for him, but then Jared would ask why, and Richard would have to tell him, and he hasn’t made up his mind about which option to go with yet, and this was a really fucking stupid idea. 

“Oh, they’re daisies; the friendliest flower,” Jared says with a wistful smile like he has a little inside joke. He finds something that vaguely resembles what could be used as a vase, and fills it with water, taking the flowers from Richard and setting them in it. “We’ll have to get you a real vase, but this will do for now.” 

The worst part is that he’s right — the flowers are a nice addition to the living room. 

Jared finishes up dinner while Richard works. When he calls Richard into the kitchen, he sees that Jared has fully set his small kitchen table with real plates and napkins and silverware instead of the paper plates and take out forks Richard usually uses. Jared smiles at him when Richard compliments the set up, taking a giant bite of the pasta Jared’s made for them. 

“So, the contractor called, and he told me that I should be good to move back into my condo tomorrow after work,” Jared says. Richard drops his fork, coughing up the water he had just taken a sip of. 

“What? Tomorrow? That’s — fuck, that’s so soon. Are you sure? Like is that safe?” He can hear the panic in his own voice, but he hopes Jared just chalks it up to worry. 

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it’ll be perfectly safe. They’ve fixed the brunt of the damage. I might be without a few furniture items, but nothing that I can’t live without.” 

“Are you sure? You can keep staying here, you know, like for as long as you need.” _Forever, if you wanted._

“Richard, I’ve taken your generosity for granted for far too long. I’m sure you’ll be happy to have your bachelor pad back to yourself.” Richard scoffs. A real fucking bachelor pad this was — Jared was the first person to ever even sleep here besides himself. “I’ll be out of your hair, and it’ll be like I was never even here.” 

“You’re not ‘ _in my hair’_ or whatever. It’s — I don’t mind like having you here. It’s… it can be, you know, nice? Having someone else around.” 

Jared stays quiet for a minute before putting his fork down and staring right at Richard — giant eyes fucking boring into his soul. “Richard, do you think perhaps you should start dating again? I have a few people I could set you up with?” 

“What?!” Richard half shouts incredulously. The last thing he wants is for Jared to fucking set him up on dates, he wants to fucking date Jared! He doesn’t want Jared to be worrying about his sex life, he wants Jared to be his sex life! The flowers did not do their job at fucking all. 

“I can only assume that you have put your romantic life on the back burner because you were too stressed about Pied Piper, but Pied Piper has steadied into an even keel recently. I think you’d be okay to cast your line and see what wonderful fish hook on.” At least it’s not a bird metaphor this time. “You deserve to have someone to share your nest with.” And there it is. 

“Jared, I don’t want — I don’t need someone to share my nest with.” _Unless it’s you, birdboy, share my nest!_ “You don’t —- I don’t want you to set me up with anyone, okay? I’m fine.” 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jared says quietly, casting his eyes down. 

Richard sighs, “You didn’t upset me. You are just looking out for me. Let’s just change the subject. Do you want to watch another movie tonight?” 

Jared doesn’t bring it up again — they finish dinner, watch some netflix documentary, and say their goodnights, but Richard knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

He thought about calling Bighead again or Monica as he paced around his room, but decided against knowing what they were going to say. But this just solidified it, didn’t it? Why would Jared offer to set him up on a date if he wanted Richard romantically? He would never set Jared up on a date — just the thought of Jared with another person makes him seethe with jealousy despite it being a fictional scenario he made up in his own mind. 

He remembers the night he watched Jared lead that girl out of the garage — his hands holding her waist and the side of her face as he kissed her goodbye — he had never been more bitterly envious in his entire life. He had thought in that moment he was jealous of Jared, having the skill and charm to not only talk to a woman but to get to agree to sleep with him. It’s not that he didn’t think Jared was handsome — he was, in a lanky angular kind of way, like they had stretched out a handsome Victorian boy — and he understands why women would like him. Jared is smart and capable and resilient and unthreatening and so fucking nice (sometimes overwhelmingly) and would go to the end of the earth if you asked him to. Anyone would be lucky to have Jared. He would be lucky to have Jared. 

The thought had come to him so suddenly that it made him panic a little, and he realized that he hadn’t wanted to be Jared in that moment, he wanted to be the girl. He wanted Jared to give him that soft, easy smile he had given her. Wanted to feel Jared’s lips graze his cheek. Wanted to have Jared’s hand wrap around his waist. He wanted Jared. 

It wasn’t his first moment of gay panic, but it was the most severe. Jared started to consume every free thought he could afford, and some he couldn’t. His mind became two tracks of Pied Piper and Jared Dunn. His dreams filled with images of Jared touching him just right, waking him sweaty with ruined sheets. Jared became everything he had ever wanted. 

And, now, two years later, he was so close to it, but still unable to grasp it. 

////

Richard is moping, and he knows he’s moping, but he’s fucking sad, and he’s the CEO so he’s allowed. He tries to work — staring at the same block of code for hours before he gives up and just lays on the couch in his office staring at the ceiling and listening to his private Jared playlist through his headphones. 

It’s so fucking ridiculous. Jared only stayed with him for two nights and he’s acting like his husband of seven years is going off to war to die. Like the only way he’s going to be able to talk to Jared through weathered airmail lettercards instead of walking the 200 ft to Jared’s office. A WWII love letter would match Jared’s vernacular more accurately, he’s 90% sure he’s heard Jared use the term “Dirty Gertie” before. 

He feels like such a fucking pussy — sulking alone in his office like a child because Jared wasn’t sleeping on his couch anymore. 

“Okay, Richard, wha —” Monica’s voice cuts through his headphones. 

“Miss Hall, you can’t go in there! He asked to be left alone,” he hears Holden call out. 

“Shut the fuck up, Holden,” Monica says, shutting the door in Holden’s face. “What’s going on?” 

Monica shoves his legs off the end of the couch and sits down, glaring at him. 

“Hi, Monica, would you like to come into my office?” 

“What’s wrong with you?” Monica asks again. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Richard sighs, sitting up right on the couch. 

Monica rolls her eyes, “You’ve been in here all day. Jared said you didn’t even come out for lunch, he’s worried about you, but respects you too much to go against your request to be alone. Which, like, fuck off you’re a semi-grown man, not a 13 year old girl.”

“I could have wanted to be left alone so I could work.” 

“But you weren’t working, you were in here moping. Is this about Jared?” Richard doesn’t say anything, pointedly looking down at his shoes, mouth twisting to one side. “So, that’s a yes.” 

“Jared’s moving out,” Richard says finally. 

“Out of his condo? Why does that matter?” 

“No, out of my apartment.” Monica gives him a confused look, and Richard groans, annoyed that he has to explain it to her despite knowing that she would have no way of knowing what the fuck he’s talking about. “Jared’s condo flooded, so he needed a place to stay for a couple days so I offered up my place to him. But now everythings fucking fixed I guess and he’s leaving.” 

“Did you think he was just going to stay forever?”

“No. I’m not an idiot, but I thought it would be longer than two days. It was just like nice to have him there to eat dinner with and talk to and watch movies with. I sound like such a pussy.” 

“You know you can just ask Jared to do those things with you, right? Like you don’t have to make some grand romantic gesture just to ask Jared to hang out with you. Friends do that kind of shit.” 

“It was just nice to have someone to come home to. Like to feel like a normal fucking human being and not some stressed out code freak who never knows what he’s doing. God, I am such a fucking loser.” 

“Yeah, you are.” 

Richard scoffs, “what the fuck, Monica? I thought you came in here to make me feel better, not agree with me when I say I’m a piece of shit.” 

“First of all, I didn’t come in here to make you feel better — I came in here to see what the fuck was wrong with you so Jared will stop pacing around the office. Second of all, you are a stressed out code freak, there’s no point in telling you you aren’t. Third of all, none of this would be an issue if you just told Jared how you feel about him. It would solve so many of your problems. Getting laid on the regular really helps with stress. I feel like Jared would be a very generous lover. ” 

Richard groans, flopping back against the back of the couch, putting his hands over his face. “Please never say that again.” 

“I’m just saying. If he takes care of you like this in just like everyday regular life —”

“Monica!” Richard cuts in, feeling his face flush. 

“Fine, prude. I’ll leave you alone to mope.” 

He waits until Monica is gone and his office door is fully closed to lay back on the couch and restart his playlist. 

////

He misses Jared the second he walks into his apartment. It’s not a big space — a pretty basic one bedroom — but now that he’s alone it feels gigantic. He opens a beer and sits on the couch alone staring at his phone feeling fucking pathetic. Monica was right; if he wants to hang out with Jared, all he has to do is call him. Jared has made it very clear that he would drop anything to spend time with Richard. So why couldn’t he dial the fucking number? He didn’t really need to even call — he could send Jared a text, or a voice memo, or even a fucking bitmoji, and Jared would be here in a heartbeat. 

But he couldn’t do it. 

He just stares at Jared’s contact like it will magically telepathically tell Jared that Richard wants to see him. 

He wonders if Jared’s had dinner yet. It’s almost 7, and Jared likes to eat early because he says it’s better for his digestion. He’s probably had dinner. Richard wonders what he ate. Wonders if he finished watching that documentary series they had started together without him. 

Maybe he had company. Maybe he had a date tonight and that was the reason he had been in such a big fucking rush to leave Richard’s apartment. Maybe Jared is making her dinner and they’re gonna finish the documentary series Jared had started with _him_. God, what kind of floozy watches a documentary series that someone had started with someone else? 

Richard groans, shoving a pillow over his head. It didn’t matter if Jared had someone over — it was none of his fucking business. He had no right to be jealous over anyone Jared was dating because he and Jared were not romantically attached at all outside of his own mind, and they never will be. 

It couldn't hurt to find out if Jared had company, though, could it? Just for his own state of mind. He could go over to Jared’s condo with some of that vegan ice cream Jared likes and say that he really wants to finish the series, but would feel wrong doing it without Jared (unlike that harlot he’s hiding Jared is hiding in the closet!). It’s really the perfect ruse. If Jared has a date, it will give him peace of mind and vindication at being right, and if Jared doesn’t have a date, Jared will let him come in and they can eat ice cream and watch the stupid documentary. That’s what really matters here. That they finish the documentary together. 

The guest parking spot for Jared’s condo number is empty when Richard gets there, ice cream in clutch — good sign. He almost chickens out on the way up, taking a break in the middle of the stairwell to keep himself from throwing up. He almost chickens out again in front of Jared’s door — hands clammy from the condensation sweat on the ice cream containers. But he does it, he takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. 

It’s fine, he reminds himself, friends do this all the time. A casual pop-bye. They did it all the time on _Seinfeld_ , that was like the whole plot. People do this. Not him, but people do. He hears Jared moving in the condo and then there he is, big blue eyes scrunched up in confusion. This was definitely a mistake. People do not do this. 

“Richard? What are you doing here?” Jared asks. 

“Um. I’m Seinfeld?” Richard says after a beat, internally kicking himself in the fucking nuts for being a goddamn idiot.  
“The comedian? I don’t think I follow? Are you thinking about going into stand-up comedy? I’ve always found you to be quite the master of sarcastic humor, but I do worry about the future of Pied Piper,” Jared rambles, hsi face still scrunched up with confusion. 

“No, no, fuck — I’m doing — it’s like a pop-bye or whatever. I just wanted to — I wanted to finish that series we started last night, and I…” _Missed you, please realize that so I don’t have to say it_ “I, um, brought ice cream. Vegan. I know your thing with dairy.” 

Jared’s face melts, mouth forming into a small smile as Richard lifts up the containers. “Oh, Richard, how thoughtful.” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Of course. How rude of me.” Jared opens the door open so Richard can slip by him, taking the ice cream from Richard’s hands. “ I do wish you would’ve called so I could have cleaned up a little…” Jared murmurs, but Richard is too distracted to really hear him. 

The place is a fucking mess. Tarps everywhere, new flooring only half on, almost devoid of any furniture at all aside from a small table, a sleeping bag, and lawn chair. All of Jared’s clothes are stacked precariously in a small corner, one breeze away from toppling over. It’s a disaster area. 

“Jared, what the fuck?” Richard says, voice breaking a little. He tries to keep his face neutral, but it’s hard not to feel hurt when it seems that Jared would rather sleep on a concrete floor in a warzone than stay with Richard. 

Jared laughs awkwardly, “I know it’s no palace. It still needs a little work. I wasn’t expecting company so soon.” 

“A little work? Jared, this place is like fucking Fury Road in here. You said the contractor had fixed most of the damage — that it was safe to move back in here,” Richard accuses, still looking around the condo. “Was it...Was staying with me really that bad?” 

“No, Richard! Of course not, these last two days have been...magical.” 

“Then what the fuck? Why would you — I mean, I did _everything_ right. I thought I did everything right. I thought — but you still — you chose to come here instead?” Richard can feel his hands shaking when he drags them down his face. He can feel Jared’s eyes on him, but he can’t face him without crying, or screaming, maybe both. 

“ I don’t — I don’t understand,” Jared says finally, taking a step towards Richard. “What do you mean you ‘did everything right’?” 

“I mean!” Richard shouts suddenly, alarming Jared, mouth dropping in surprise. “I mean that I did everything to take care of you because I thought that you needed it, and you always fucking take care of me, and you do so much for me and Pied Piper, I just wanted do that for you. And I thought I did everything right. I mean I got you clothes that you like, and I got food that you like, and we watched one of your favorite movies which, I mean, it was really good I’m not mad about it, and we had tea, and it was nice or I thought it was nice. And I thought that I was doing everything right to show you — but I obviously fucking didn’t because you — because it wasn’t enough.” 

“Richard, I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“No, fuck, I know you don’t _need_ me to take care of you. I don’t need you to take care of me — well, I mean, maybe a little bit — but I like when you take care of me because it’s nice to have someone like fucking care about if you’re sleeping enough or drinking enough water, and I wanted you to know — I wanted to give that to you because you like fucking deserve it, and I...I just wanted to do something for you for once.” 

“And you did! Richard, I loved doing all those things with you. It was like a dream come true for me. You must know that.” Jared’s voice goes quiet, a silent begging in the way he says the final word. 

“Then why?” 

“Because…” Jared sighs. He sets the ice cream down on the small table, chewing on his lip. Richard follows every movement with undivided attention, hanging on to Jared’s every breath. “Because it was — it was just too much for me.”

“Too much?”

“You have to understand what having those moments with you meant to me. I haven’t kept my affections for you a secret, and getting to come home to you and have you like that knowing that it would never be fully what I wanted it to be. I can withstand a lot of things, Richard, but the consequences of my own fantasies got too big to handle.” 

“Your...affections?” Richard asks. 

“Don’t act obtuse, Richard,” Jared sighs, finally meeting Richard’s eye. “You know that I’m in love with you.” 

Richard takes in a small gasp of air after what seems like years of struggling to breathe. He feels lightheaded when in fact his mind is full to the very brim with voices telling him that Jared loves him. Full of memories of Jared showering him with loyalty and affection and care. Full of Jared’s careful hands fixing his collar and handing him tea and giving him a gentle pat on the back. Full of Jared’s soft smiles and tender words and unwavering support. He was such a fucking idiot. He should have listened, he should have known. They were all right. _Bighead_ was right. 

“Fucking Bighead,” Richard murmurs, mind still going a mile a minute. 

“What does Nelson have to do with this?”

Richard shakes his head, “No, nothing, he and I and — I think you should come home with me.” 

“Richard…” 

He doesn’t let Jared finish his sentence — surging forward to kiss Jared. It’s nothing spectacular, a chaste dry press of lips, but it’s enough. Jared looks down at him, Richard’s hands still pressed to the sides of his face. He gives Richard a look that Richard knows is a silent question of, “Are you sure?” Richard nods, running his thumb along the slope of his cheek. 

Richard steps away, but keeps a hand wrapped around Jared’s thin wrist. “Pack a bag, and come back home with me. I’ll meet you downstairs.” 

Jared gives a small nod, still staring down at Richard through big unsure eyes. Richard rushes down the stairs, taking a giant breath of fresh air when he finally bursts through the door of the lobby. He staggers to his car, collapsing sideways into the front seat, and shoving his head in between his legs. He can feel the bile rising in his throat. He tries to take the even deep breaths that Jared had taught him to keep himself from throwing up. The last thing he wants right now is vomit breath. 

“Richard?” he hears Jared’s voice call out. Richard’s head shoots up too fast, wacking it against the car. And then Jared is there, because Jared is always there, kneeling down in front of him with a worried look and a gentle hand on his head. “Are you alright?” 

Richard nods, pushing his head further into Jared’s hand, “Yeah, I’m alright now.” 

Jared nods back, but makes no effort to move. Richard can feel his heart beat against his chest, so hard he’s sure that Jared can hear it. Jared brings his hands to lay over Richard’s where they’re resting on his knees, curled up in balls to keep from shaking, and squeezes gently before getting off the ground. 

They’re silent the entire drive home. Richard keeps his eyes glued to the road, white knuckling the steering wheel, hyper aware of Jared’s presence next to him. Jared steals small glances at him every so often, unknowing that Richard can tell, or uncaring. He wonders if Jared can feel it too — the unwavering electric tension he can feel in his bones. It makes his fingers tingle and his brain go a little fuzzy. He feels hazy like he’s moving through a dream. Like he’s going to have to wake up soon. 

Jared’s patient with him as he struggles to unlock his door, fingers trembling a little around his keys. He finally does get it unlocked and let’s Jared in first, turning his back to lock the door. When he turns around Jared is right there, so close that Richard can smell the light scent of his cologne. He sucks in a breath, dropping his keys. 

Jared moves slowly, stepping even closer so Richard is pressed lightly against the door. He brings a hand up to the side of Richard’s neck, holding him there. 

“Richard…” Jared whispers and Richard can feel his breath against his lips. It’s a question and Richard nods his answer, closing his eyes and tilting his head up. 

Richard doesn’t really know how to describe what kissing Jared is like. It’s like nothing has ever mattered before and nothing will ever matter after except the tender press of Jared’s lips against his. Jared is overly gentle with him, like he’s afraid Richard will change his mind and run. But he doesn’t. He’s never going to run from this feeling. 

He wraps both his arms around Jared’s neck, pulling Jared down to kiss him deeper, body flushed against his. Richard knows he’s not the best kisser — his lips are chapped and dry, he gets a little too eager, pushes a little too hard — but Jared takes it all in stride, wrapping his arm fully around Richard’s waist to support him while the other weaves itself into Richard’s hair. Richard has thought a lot about how Jared would kiss — expected Jared to maybe be shy, abashed about taking what he wants, thought that Jared would let Richard take the lead — but Jared is purposeful, moving Richard where he needs him to be, taking advantage of the soft noise Richard makes when Jared nips at his bottom lip to slip his tongue past Richard’s lips, confident with his exploration of Richard’s mouth. It’s better than anything Richard could have ever dreamed of. Jared tastes like tea, just like Richard imagined he would. 

It’s so easy with Jared, it’s never been this easy. To just give himself over, to turn his mind off and lose himself to the feeling of Jared’s hands and Jared’s lips and Jared’s chest and _Jared, Jared, Jared._ He feels like liquid gold, melting between Jared’s fingers. 

Richard pushes lightly against Jared, moving him through the apartment to where his couch is, unwilling to break away from Jared for a single moment to make sure they get there safely. Jared falls back onto the middle of the couch, pulling Richard on top of him, hands on his hips to hold him in place, cold fingers dipping underneath his sweater to press into his overheated skin. 

He’s getting impatient — he wants to touch, he wants to feel Jared’s skin under his hands. He fiddles with the buttons on Jared’s shirt, too jittery to get a good grip. Jared pulls away from Richard, grabbing his wrists. Richard leans back, letting his eyes open slowly to look at Jared. His hair’s messy from Richard’s hands, flush spread along his cheeks and down his slender neck, his eyes blown out, a little glossed over. 

“Richard...are you sure?” Jared asks. Richard watches his mouth as he talks, lips red and spit shined. He doesn’t answer — doesn’t know if he could tell Jared just how sure he is right now if he even tries — just nods frantically, pressing his hips down lightly against Jared’s. 

Jared just looks up at him for a moment, before sitting forward, attaching his mouth to the underside of Richard’s jaw. Richard lets out a shocked gasp, stuttering out Jared’s name when he scrapes his teeth against his jugular. He shoves his hands under Richard’s sweater, pushing it over Richard’s head. 

“Fuck, Jared — you _oh_ you too,” Richard breathes out, fiddling with the buttons on Jared’s shirt again. Jared nods against his throat, helping Richard strip him of his shirt. He pushes the shirt of Jared’s narrow shoulders, feeling the smooth plane of porcelain skin. He can’t stop touching, addicted to the feeling of finally being able to have Jared like this. Finally being able to hear the sweet symphony of sounds that Jared makes as Richard rocks against Jared’s, feeling the hard press of his cock under him. The friction is dizzying. 

He feels insatiable — he can’t get enough of Jared’s lips, of Jared’s mouth, of Jared’s skin. He’s never been religious, but in that moment he would worship day and night at the temple of Jared Dunn, chanting that holy name. 

He feels like a teenager, rutting against Jared, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before, not even when he was sixteen and could get it up from a strong wind. Jared’s deft fingers move to the button of Richard’s jeans, shucking down the zipper while he sucks a mark into the junction of Richard’s neck and shoulder. Jared pushes his jeans open just enough to slip his hand into Richard’s briefs and pull his cock out. 

Richard’s mouth falls open, almost coming just at the obscene sight of Jared licking a stripe up the center of his own palm before wrapping his hand around Richard’s cock. It’s never been anything to write home about, but he’s always felt his dick to be proportional to the rest of his body. Seeing it wrapped up in Jared’s hands, though, makes his head go fuzzy. He’s so loving with his touches, always so gentle with him, so unlike the way Richard always touches himself — too rough and too impatient to ever be slow and gentle with himself. But Jared is — large hand stroking him with slow, featherlight touches that are too much and not enough. He wonders absently if Jared could fit both their dicks in one hand. The thought makes his dick pulse in Jared’s grasp and he’s filled with so much want he feels like he could pass out. 

“Jared, oh fuck,” Richard groans when Jared swipes his thumb over the head, mouthing at his neck. “Can you, um — both? You, fuck — at the same time?” 

“Oh, _Richard_ ,” Jared groans when he figures out what Richard is asking for. He moves his other hand from where it had been running up and down Richard’s thigh to unbutton his own khakis, shoving his hand into his pants to take out his cock. Jared’s dick is just as pretty as the rest of him — he can’t really believe he would think the word pretty in relation to a fucking dick, but, god, Jared’s was — slender and pink and curving towards his stomach, the tip a little wet. Richard wants to feel it, to taste it, to have it fill him up. But what he wants most right now is to feel it press against his own wrapped up in one of Jared’s talented hands. 

Jared pulls him into a messy kiss when he finally wraps his hand around them. Richard groans, open mouth against Jared’s as he arches into Jared’s touch. 

Jared knows exactly how to touch him, like he’s already memorized Richard’s every need. His head drops to the crook of Jared’s neck, whining at the feeling of Jared working them both. He can feel Jared’s heartbeat when he lazily mouths at his pulse point, he’s sure his own feels just as erratic. He wants to watch Jared’s hand move, but he can barely keep his eyes open, washed in the feeling. 

“Richard, oh God, Richard,” Jared moans, and Richard is sure he’s never heard anything quite as gratifying as the way Jared says his name. 

He’s not going to last very long, too pent up and overwhelmed to try and hold it off. “Jared — I’m, fuck — I’m not, please —” 

“Yes, Richard, god yes, I want to see,” Jared breathes out, stroking them faster, nosing at the top of his head. He comes with a mantra of Jared’s name on his lips, rocking into Jared’s fist until he’s shuttering. 

When he catches his breath he pulls Jared into a kiss, knocking his hand away to wrap his own around Jared’s cock. Jared pulls away, dropping his head against Richard’s chest. 

“C’mon, Jared. You did so good for me, so good. Your turn, wanna see it. Bet you look so pretty,” Richard bables. He doesn’t even really know what he’s saying, still half delirious, but he wants to see Jared come so bad. Wants to see him unravel under his touch. I love you so much, give it to me”. 

Jared gasps, shaking under Richard as he comes fast and hard over Richard’s fist. Richard leans down to kiss Jared again, slow and sweet while Jared catches his breath. 

He hobbles off Jared’s lap ungracefully, his pants half down and cum drying on his hand, and goes into the kitchen to wet a towel to wipe them up. When he gets back, Jared is watching him carefully. He doesn’t say anything while Richard wipes up the mess from their hands, just follows Richard’s every movement with his eyes. 

“Richard?” he says finally, voice in a low whisper. Richard looks up from where he was wiping the rag along Jared’s fingers. “What you said —- did you mean it? I understand if you didn’t, the thralls of passion can be a very powerful thing and I—“

Richard cuts him off with a languid kiss, resting his hand on the side of Jared’s face. When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Jared’s so that their noses knock a little. “I meant it. Jared, god, I mean it. I — for _so long.”_ He doesn’t know how to say everything he’s feeling, every thought of how much he loves Jared instantly being taken over by another. He hopes Jared understands.

Jared runs a hand through Richard’s sweaty hair, pushing the too long bangs out of his eyes. He wonders if Jared would say yes if he asked him to give him a haircut. “So handsome,” Jared whispers, so quiet he’s sure Jared hadn’t meant to say it outloud, still playing with Richard’s hair. 

Richard lets his eyes fall shut, laying his Jared’s shoulder, lured to sleep by the hand in his hair and the sound of Jared’s even breathing. Jared still smells good, even with the sweat drying on his skin. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, but it can’t be long before Jared whispers his name. “Richard, you should get to bed.” 

Richard nods slowly getting up from the couch. He almost trips on his way to his bedroom trying to take his jeans off, petulant groan rising in his throat at how hard they are to get off. Why are they so hard to get off? He does get them off, though, and makes it into his bedroom before realizing he’s alone. He wanders back into the living room, and sees Jared turning down the pull out couch. 

“Jared?” Richard says blearily. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh,” Jared says, looking unsure between Richard and the couch. “I didn’t want to assume. Many people like to sleep alo—” 

“No,” Richard almost whines. Why would he want to sleep alone when he finally, _finally_ has Jared. He has Jared doesn’t he? After all this, Jared is his isn’t he? Richard reaches out his hand for Jared to take, “With me, please?” 

Jared squeezes his hand when he takes it, warm and soft in Richard’s own. 

////

Richard can hear Jared humming from the kitchen when he wakes up. It’s a different song than he usually hums, one Richard doesn’t recognize, but he likes just the same in Jared’s voice. He shuts his eyes again, rolling over to where the bed is still warm from Jared, where he can still smell him lingering, and listens. 

He stays like that until Jared comes back into the room, gentle hand on his back, and that same calming voice whispering his name. He’s already dressed for the day, Richard notes when he opens his eyes — hair parted and face shaven. He had sort of hoped to see what Jared looks like fresh out of bed. _Tomorrow maybe,_ he thinks, smiling stupidly at the thought. 

Jared looks confused at his goofy smile, but he doesn’t say anything about it, just smiles back, handing Richard a cup of coffee. When he takes a sip it’s exactly how he likes it. Jared knows exactly how he likes his coffee because Jared loves him. Jared’s _in love_ with him. Jared wants to wake him up and hand him a cup of coffee, just how he likes it, and push his ratty bed head out of his face. 

And Richard can kiss him if he wants, and he wants to. He wants to kiss Jared so fucking bad even though he’s sure he has rank morning breath just because he can. So he does. And Jared kisses him back even though he has rank morning breath because he loves him. And Richard doesn’t think he could ever be any happier. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i kno the ending is cheesy as all hell but idk how to end a fic i never have and never will know 
> 
> um i'll probably write a sequel/epilogue about jared wearing the hoodie again because I think it would make richard's brain fully shut down to see jared in own of his hoodies.
> 
> anyway comments always welcome 
> 
> if you wanna chat about jared/richard im always screaming about them on tumblr @ davidsfincher and on twitter @ peakcinemas


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